@oh__cha_: 強く生きましょう。 #ぬいぐるみ界隈 #ぬい活 #ぬいぐるみ

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Tuesday 12 May 2026 08:50:40 GMT

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🎀 :

歌い出してしぬwwwww

2026-05-12 08:58:29

1574

yuuuoo00oo____2 :

普通に名曲で聴き入ってしまった

2026-05-12 17:12:02

357

は :

勢いやばい。感動した

2026-05-12 14:30:01

315

♡ :

このアザラシちゃんは親ガチャ大成功だよ、絶対幸せだと思う

2026-05-13 05:46:41

978

李紗🍮 :

歌ももちろん強烈だけど、映像がアフヌンとか新幹線とか海とかディズニーとかいろんなところ連れてって貰ってて、おちゃちゃんも幸せだと思う

2026-05-12 12:14:22

588

にゃん1017. :

あ、緑アザラシってぬいの部類に確かに入りますね💦なんかもう普通に生きてる感覚に思ってたので多分私のほうがヤバいですね😂

2026-05-12 11:57:20

133

水瀬_👑 :

大量の＼Very Cute‼️‼️／で声出たどんな時でもぬい活一筋でかっこいいです😭

2026-05-13 11:59:10

64

まる :

一本の映画見たくらい満足しました

2026-05-12 15:25:54

43

河本加汀 :

何が問題？大人にとっても科学的な根拠に基づいた有効な精神安定法です。ぬいぐるみに語りかけたり抱きしめることで脳内に幸せホルモンのオキシトシンが分泌されるのよ!批判している方は知らないのでは😌周りの人達なんて気にしなくていいわ！

2026-05-13 04:08:13

67

ﾌﾟﾙｬ :

あの炎上を経てこの歌が生み出されるのは流石に天才すぎる

2026-05-12 09:45:41

178

ま :

わかってんだよからの自覚済みのとこリズム好きすぎて何回もリピしてまう🎶

2026-05-12 15:41:06

94

user7028468282290 :

楽しくてよきです🥰

2026-05-12 11:19:50

5

のんのん :

自覚済み🌟🌟で耐えられなかった😂😂

2026-05-15 07:15:02

11

りお :

最高の動画に出会ってしまった

2026-05-12 23:44:12

21

なーな :

だってかわいいから👈わかる

2026-05-13 12:11:36

30

natsumin :

名曲が誕生してる🤣

2026-05-12 12:05:43

6

ふ :

身内の視聴率100%でしぬ

2026-05-15 08:05:57

12

𝙠 :

めちゃくちゃゴキゲンな曲調でおもろい笑笑元気出る😂

2026-05-15 11:59:24

7

유나. :

こういう人全員友達になりたい

2026-05-15 09:15:59

7

りんご酢 :

いやたぶん緑の丸い、あれは、何のキャラ……？って気になって見てるんだと思いますよ😂初見ですみません😂緑色のアザラシは初めて見ました😂

2026-05-13 04:48:58

14

ナナナ :

このストレス社会で1人1ぬいが浸透したらいいなぁって思ってます。今は1人1推しと言われる位オタ活文化が浸透してるんだから1ぬいの時代が来ても良いと思う。外に出さなくとも鞄に入れておくだけで癒される。人にイライラぶつけがちな更年期真っ只中の中年層辺りこそぬいを持ち歩くべき

2026-05-15 13:47:25

15

。 :

いつも楽しみに見てます😭😭😭😭うちの🦭といっしょに見てます♡♡

2026-05-12 14:28:29

64

ヨッキー :

不意打ちの♬yeah〜♬←wwwww

2026-05-14 10:53:49

6

💜結愛mama📱 :

私もぬいぐるみないと外出しない平気で出して撮影するこちら我が家の肉太郎です

2026-05-14 00:54:02

11

穴にきゅうり詰めないで :

ぬいぐるみ用の小物物色してる時ってめちゃ楽しいですよね…。みんなｷﾓいとか言わないでやればいいのに…

2026-05-12 09:23:37

25

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Kris Kristofferson died peacefully on September 28, 2024, at his home in Maui, Hawaii. He was 88, and the quiet ending felt gentle for a man who had spent his life choosing storms. Before the songs, before the movies, before the outlaw-country image, he had already built the kind of perfect life most families would never ask a son to risk. Kris was born on June 22, 1936, in Brownsville, Texas, into a military family where discipline was not a performance. His father, Lars Henry Kristofferson, became an Air Force major general, and Kris grew up around order, expectation, and duty. By the time he reached Pomona College in the 1950s, he was not drifting. He was shining. At Pomona, he studied literature, boxed, played football and rugby, and graduated in 1958 with honors that made his future look decided. He was 22, and the world seemed to be telling him, “Stay on this road, wear the respect well, and do not gamble with a life this polished.” Then came the Rhodes Scholarship in 1958. Oxford was not a detour for Kris. It was another golden stamp on a life already full of promise. At Merton College, he studied English literature, wrote fiction and songs, and earned his degree in 1960. Picture that contrast. A Texas-born military son walking through Oxford’s old stone halls, carrying books in his hand and country music in his blood. In 1960, he joined the U.S. Army. He became a captain, completed Ranger training, and learned to fly helicopters. By his late twenties, Kris was an Oxford graduate, a Rhodes Scholar, an Army officer, and a trained pilot. It was the kind of résumé that did not whisper success. It saluted. West Point wanted him to teach English. That offer could have sealed everything. A respected classroom, a stable uniform, a proud family, and a future that made perfect sense. “Here was the son any father could brag about, the scholar any college could claim, the soldier any institution could trust.” But Kris had a problem. The songs would not leave him alone. In 1965, at about 29, he made the choice that turned his life into legend. He left the Army path, gave up the West Point teaching appointment, and went to Nashville. His family did not celebrate it. Security disappeared. Prestige disappeared. The man who could have taught cadets ended up working as a janitor at Columbia Recording Studios. That detail still hits like a movie scene. An Oxford-educated Army captain pushing a broom in Nashville because he wanted to be near the rooms where songs were born. “He did not fall from success because he failed. He climbed down from success because the ladder was leaning against the wrong dream.” The janitor years were not cute while he was living them. They were lonely and uncertain. But Kris kept writing. He wrote like a man who had seen discipline, loneliness, desire, and regret from the inside. His songs did not sound polished for politeness. They sounded lived in. Then the words found their people. “Me and Bobby McGee” became a road song with a broken heart. “Sunday Morning Coming Down” turned a hangover into a prayer. “Help Me Make It Through the Night” made need feel human. “For the Good Times” gave goodbye a soft place to land. Hollywood came later, but it never swallowed the songwriter. In

Kris Kristofferson died peacefully on September 28, 2024, at his home in Maui, Hawaii. He was 88, and the quiet ending felt gentle for a man who had spent his life choosing storms. Before the songs, before the movies, before the outlaw-country image, he had already built the kind of perfect life most families would never ask a son to risk. Kris was born on June 22, 1936, in Brownsville, Texas, into a military family where discipline was not a performance. His father, Lars Henry Kristofferson, became an Air Force major general, and Kris grew up around order, expectation, and duty. By the time he reached Pomona College in the 1950s, he was not drifting. He was shining. At Pomona, he studied literature, boxed, played football and rugby, and graduated in 1958 with honors that made his future look decided. He was 22, and the world seemed to be telling him, “Stay on this road, wear the respect well, and do not gamble with a life this polished.” Then came the Rhodes Scholarship in 1958. Oxford was not a detour for Kris. It was another golden stamp on a life already full of promise. At Merton College, he studied English literature, wrote fiction and songs, and earned his degree in 1960. Picture that contrast. A Texas-born military son walking through Oxford’s old stone halls, carrying books in his hand and country music in his blood. In 1960, he joined the U.S. Army. He became a captain, completed Ranger training, and learned to fly helicopters. By his late twenties, Kris was an Oxford graduate, a Rhodes Scholar, an Army officer, and a trained pilot. It was the kind of résumé that did not whisper success. It saluted. West Point wanted him to teach English. That offer could have sealed everything. A respected classroom, a stable uniform, a proud family, and a future that made perfect sense. “Here was the son any father could brag about, the scholar any college could claim, the soldier any institution could trust.” But Kris had a problem. The songs would not leave him alone. In 1965, at about 29, he made the choice that turned his life into legend. He left the Army path, gave up the West Point teaching appointment, and went to Nashville. His family did not celebrate it. Security disappeared. Prestige disappeared. The man who could have taught cadets ended up working as a janitor at Columbia Recording Studios. That detail still hits like a movie scene. An Oxford-educated Army captain pushing a broom in Nashville because he wanted to be near the rooms where songs were born. “He did not fall from success because he failed. He climbed down from success because the ladder was leaning against the wrong dream.” The janitor years were not cute while he was living them. They were lonely and uncertain. But Kris kept writing. He wrote like a man who had seen discipline, loneliness, desire, and regret from the inside. His songs did not sound polished for politeness. They sounded lived in. Then the words found their people. “Me and Bobby McGee” became a road song with a broken heart. “Sunday Morning Coming Down” turned a hangover into a prayer. “Help Me Make It Through the Night” made need feel human. “For the Good Times” gave goodbye a soft place to land. Hollywood came later, but it never swallowed the songwriter. In "A Star Is Born" 1976, Kris became a screen face for wounded masculinity, fame, damage, and tenderness. He looked like a man who knew how expensive dreams could be because he had already paid the bill. Kris Kristofferson did not reject education, rank, or respect. He simply refused to let them become a cage. He used Oxford, the Army, the cockpit, the broom, and the blank page to become the man he was chasing. He gave up the safe life and found his true voice. Photos below are: Kris and Jeff Bridges Kris and Rita Coolidge

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